


A breathing of new life

by Niccolo



Series: The Someday King [3]
Category: Shades of Magic - V. E. Schwab
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Happy End for Holland, Memories of Athos because it's Holland and he is a mess, Memories of Vortalis, Probably still spoilers since it is set after Acol
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-27
Updated: 2018-12-27
Packaged: 2019-09-28 05:35:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17176889
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Niccolo/pseuds/Niccolo
Summary: Holland is the Someday King. But healing his world proves far more difficult than he has anticipated. Besides, there is still a voice in his head.





	A breathing of new life

**Author's Note:**

> Alright, this is not perfect, but since I don't want to have it lying around anymore while I wonder how to improve it, you'll get it like this. Complaints in the comments ;)
> 
> I still recommend to read "A life's distance walked" and "A whispering of magic" before this one, so you understand on what assumptions this story is build. I think it also makes a nicer story arc.

The streets of White London smelled of blood.

And this was not the usual faint smell of blood that clung to his world. It was the quite literal smell of blood spilled. For all that kings in his world were commonly tyrants, they brought a kind of stability to the city. If there was no king, chaos ensued.

There were the wars between competitors for the throne of course. But there were also wars for smaller bounty. Gangs fighting for dominance over sections of the city. Small bands picking off victims in the chaos. Individuals trying to take a bite for themselves.

Smart people stayed away from the streets at such a time. But in a city like his, not everyone could afford to be smart. He did not count the bodies he passed. And when the chaos finally came to him, three quarters to the castle, he was not surprised.

It began with steps that followed him. First one set and when he passed a street, another set. He continued to walk on. They were ready to strike, when he entered a narrow street. He could hear a faint noise from up above. A man inhaling. A string drawn. Holland lifted a hand and pulled, before the man got a chance to release the arrow, and it flew down into his hand. Arrow in hand he turned around to the two men, who had been following him and now stood in the mouth of the alley. Of course it meant turning his back on the other two men waiting for him at the end.

They did not seem to recognize him as their king. But then again, he had looked different with Osaron inside. His eye should have been clue enough, but with his appearance now, they might not have recognized him as the _Antari_ of their world.

By now the archer on the roof had nocked a new arrow and Holland pulled again. But this time not on the arrow but the man itself.

A curse, and a crash and a muffled cry of pain. And the other men attacked. Holland dropped the arrow and turned his back to the wall. Four men with wicked blades came running towards him. A whirlwind of air slammed into them, before they could ever reach him. They tumbled away, skittering over the cobbles. But air could not be made sharp and so they got quickly back on their feet. Although not before Holland had tugged on their blades, and called the metal to him. He plucked each of them out of the air and let them drop at his feet. A dull sound ringing through the street each time. And still they did not run. They pulled out knifes and other blades, just arming themselves again.

Holland looked at them and a small sigh escaped his lips. They were getting quite annoying. He held his hands out over the ground, a section of the cobbles shivered and loosened and rose into the air. And he flung them outwards, showering the men in a hail of stones until they went to the ground.

Groans filled the street.

He stepped forward to the archer he had dropped from the roof. The man pulled out a knife, holding it defiantly up. He did not rise from the ground. Couldn’t, his legs being broken. His hair was ash gray as Holland’s had been once, his skin almost white. Binding tattoos ringed his wrists in broad bands and crawled onto his hands.

„ _As Hasari_ “, the voice whispered.

Holland plucked the knife from the man’s hand and pulled it over his own palm. He dipped his fingers into the blood and touched them to the mans forehead.

„As Hasari“, he said.

Color bled from the mark into the mans skin, spreading through his face down his neck and further. It reached his hands and the binding tattoos there. Ink welled up from his skin, running down his hand, the tattoos blurring and then vanishing.

„What?“, the man looked at his ink stained hands. And then he looked at Holland, fear and defiance in his eyes.

„Do not bind magic“, Holland said. „Ask and it will listen.“

The man looked at his hands and a flame sprang up in his palm. He rocked back. Then he looked up again, meeting Hollands eyes. Fear had turned to awe.

Holland turned to the other men, who had watched dumbfounded. He stepped to each of them in turn, touched his blood to their foreheads and commanded the magic to heal. Each time color flowed back into their skin, shedding whatever binding tattoos they had taken. Each time he told them the same line.

„Do not bind magic. Ask and it will listen.“

At the end the five men scrambled from the ground running to the exit of the street. Holland watched them go. Quite aware of the fact that he did not know if he had sent them to their deaths at the hands of someone trying to claim their new found magic. He was still quite aware of the nature of his people and that change did not come quickly.

„ _It’ll be alright_ “, the voice said.

„You know“, Holland said. „It is really bothering me, that you are reading my thoughts.“

„ _Ugh. Don’t be so close minded_ “, the voice said. „ _You have to learn to loosen up_.“

Well. Who’s fault was it that he didn’t like people to know his thoughts to begin with.

„ _Sorry_ “, the voice grumbled.

„You are doing it again.“

„ _It’s not something I do_ “, the voice said. „ _It’s something that is. I just know everything you think. Everything you feel. Everything you want_.“

He could feel himself tense.

„ _Don’t worry. I don’t judge_.“

„That’s not the point.“

„ _The point is you are afraid of people knowing you. I’m not people_.“

The voice seemed people enough for him to worry. And he did not like the feeling that someone was watching him and no reaction, no thought, no feeling was ever going unnoticed.

„ _Trust_ “, the voice said. „ _Something we both need to learn again_.“

Holland sighed and continued on towards the castle.

 

*

 

The first person he encountered in the castle was a young girl, no more than nine. Her blond hair pulled back into a braid, scars showing faintly along her temple and cheek. It took him a moment, but then he remembered her. A serving girl that had already been around under the Danes, she had worn her hair over her face then. His mind provided him with a name.

„Nasi“, he said.

„Your Majesty?“, she asked. Body tense as if ready to run, voice unbelieving, hopeful.

„Yes“, Holland said. „I am back.“

She threw herself to the ground in front of him then.

„What happened while I’ve been away?“, Holland asked.

„Things have gone wrong“, the girl said. „Everything has bleached and fallen dead again. Most of the guard left. And the people…“

Holland nodded. „We’ll have to fix things again. Gather everyone, who has remained, in the throne room.“

The girl hurried off and Holland continued through the castle. It was silent and empty and so different from the castle in Red London.

He felt quite alone.

 

*

 

It was not the Blood Square it had once been. But it also was no longer the one he had created with Osarons magic.

The soil had turned dry and barren, the fountain run dry, the vaulting archways crumbled once more. And the apple trees a hybrid of stone and wood had crumbled, becoming nothing more than broken pillars.

Holland knelt, touching his bloody palm to the ground.

„As Staro“, he said and the ground became marbled stone again. He moved over to the fountain and closing his eyes, he searched for the water that ran somewhere deep below and when he found it, he nudged it up and up until a spray of water erupted from the fountains top and spilled down into its basin.

It wasn’t as fancy as what he had done when Osarons magic had been his. And it was more work. But it was steady and lasting and true.

People were watching from beyond the square, wary but fascinated nonetheless. They did not come to hail him as they had done before when he had ruled with Osaron. Holland did not mind it. He was king out of necessity not out of lust for public adoration.

His people would have to learn that change was something you had to work for. And so he worked to reform the Blood Square, one piece at a time. It felt good to do so. The deep satisfaction of rebuilding something piece by piece, the slow but steady progress, the feeling of purpose.

At the end, he stepped back and surveyed what he had build. He missed Vortalis. They should have done this together.

„ _Looks good_ “, the voice said, sounding pleased.

He could feel his own satisfaction being echoed and to his surprise it made him feel better. Less alone. After all he wasn’t doing this by himself.

 

*

 

„Your majesty.“

It was one of the guards calling him. They had been watching the gates, as there were still those competitors for the throne loose in the city. Holland wondered when they would decide to march on the castle.

„What is it?“, he asked.

„There are some people gathered outside the gates in the forest.“

Maybe they had decided to do so now.

„How many?“

„A hundred?“, the man said uncertain.

„A hundred?“ Were there really that many trying to take the throne? Or only one who had gathered a small army to do so? „I have to see for myself.“

He moved through the castle to the side facing the front and looked out of one of the slit like windows. There was indeed a gathering of people below. But it did not seem like an attack on the castle. Most of them looked like common people, and they just sat or stood there outside the closed gates. Occasionally one of them looked up, and in their eyes Holland could read fear and anxiety but also hope.

He went down.

A cheer went up, when he left the castle gate. The people who had sat, scrambled to their feet. They drew around the steps in a crowd. A chant of king, king, king erupted and the king is back. And then beginning as a whisper and growing louder as other people took it up they called: Heal us.

„ _You know why those people have come_ “, the voice said.

„Yes“, Holland said.

He took out one of his knifes and drew his blood.

 

*

 

Holland stood at the window of the kings chamber and surveyed his city. There were specks of color now. A row of buildings, less faded. Sometimes just a single one. Sometimes a single window with bright shutters, where all the others were still white. But mostly the city was still bleached and the Siljt still frozen.

People mumbled. He knew it. About him, that he was weak, longing for the things he had done with Osarons power. The changes he produced now weren’t quick enough for them. And they loathed that it required them to change their ways.

Not all. But enough for whispers to accumulate.

That he wasn’t the someday king after all. That someone with more power would produce quicker results. After all, why hadn’t the Siljt unfrozen yet?

Of course there were also the others. Those streaming to the castle, gathering in front of it, all in a hope to receive his blessing and be made whole again. So that now the streets of London were speckled with two kinds. Those still pale and bleached, still carrying around their binding runes and those with healthy skin and no markings on their body. He had outlawed the runes, but that alone did nothing. He had also outlawed the making, trade and possession of talisman that bound magic to them. But still they were sold and circulated through the black markets.

Change he realized was indeed slow. And for all his people longed and hungered for magic, they refused to change.

„ _Quite maddening, isn’t it?“,_ the voice said.

„You could help me a bit“, Holland said.

„ _I am helping_ “, the voice said indignant.

„Then why is everything still bleached? The Siljt still frozen? Most of the world still looks the same. No wonder people are doubtful.“

„ _I do not like to be bound_ “, the voice said.

„Does everyone need to shed their binding runes before you will be satisfied?“

He could feel a prickle in his mind, a hesitation.

„ _I don’t think the effect on your world is just because of my withdrawal_ “, the voice said.

„What?“, Holland snapped.

„ _It’s out of balance_.“

„Yes. Because you withdrew.“

„ _It’s what started it, but now it is more. Just pouring me back in won’t fix everything. It might even unstable things more._ “

„Great“, Holland said. „So how do I balance it?“

„ _I do not know_ “, the voice said.

„Shouldn’t you be able to balance it yourself? Isn’t that what nature does? Balancing the elements to let things grow?“

„ _And do you see much growing in the world outside?_ “, the voice asked.

„No.“

The voice fell pointedly silent.

„Yes. Fine. Let’s finde out how to do it then“, Holland said and left for the castle’s library.

 

*

 

„Nothing“, Holland said and closed the book. „Again.“

Weeks had passend and he was still no closer to figuring out how to fix the problem with his world. This wasn’t how the stories went. All they ever spoke of was the return of magic and then everything was supposed to fall back into place. None of them had spoken of how much _work_ it would be.

„ _All the good stories leave out the boring bits_ “, the voice said. „ _It’s why they make good stories._ “

Well, there was a point there. But he would still have thought things would be more… epic.

He gestured at the books on the table, his most recent objects of research.

„Curses and binding spells and binding runes and seven books on forging magic into talisman but nothing about balancing.“

„ _Yes_ “, the voice said drily. „ _One could almost come to believe your people do not buy into balancing magic_.“

Holland drummed his fingers on the last book. He frowned when he noticed and stopped. He felt restless. All that searching to no end was driving him mad.

„There should be something“, Holland said. „Someone must have thought about it.“

„ _They did_ “, the voice said. „ _But they thought it too dangerous to follow that path_.“

But there were people following this path. Just not in this London.

He got up. Something had to exist even here. Books from a time before Black Londons fall. If not here then somewhere else in the city. He would sent someone to search for it. There had to be a use to being king after all.

 

*

 

He was exhausted. Bone deep exhausted. And there had still been people waiting for him to heal them. As there were every day.

It had become a daily routine for him to heal as many as he could possible do. But there were always more. He even suspected that not all of them were originally Londoners, some had come from the other cities close by.

„Are you gonna make me do this with every single person in all of this world?“, Holland asked.

„ _I do not like to be bound_ “, the voice said.

Which was not really an answer.

„Your Majesty“, a man called.

Holland turned.

The man was holding a book and Holland could feel himself grow excited. It was one of the men he had sent in search for books about balancing.

„You found something?“

The man held out the book. „Just the one.“

At least it was something. And time was running out. Ever since he had eschewed the sacrifices during the plowing people had grown restless. He had still done the plowing, mind you. But he had come to doubt the sacrifices were any good.

Holland took the book, opening it slowly to the first page so as not to betray his eagerness.

 

_Balancing magic is a useless art. More so, it is a dangerous art, as it assumes that magic can be in balance. That is a foolish thought. Magic is wild and unpredictable and only a strong mind and will can bend it to obey. You have to dominate it or it will dominate you._

 

Holland shut the book, all his excitement evaporating.

„I slowly come to suspect, that the people of my world have not only gone so far as to destroy everything associated with Black London, but also everything that suggest magic as an equal.“

„ _Sounds about right_ “, the voice said.

„Your Majesty?“, the man asked confused.

Holland focused his gaze back on the man. He flicked his hand in an imitation of Vortalis kingly gesture.

„You may leave. And call off the search.“

He had to find a different way to gain knowledge about balancing.

 

*

 

Holland rolled the small, red coin between his thumb and index finger, considering it. Considering what it meant, what it enabled him to do. And he remembered a young arrogant boy in a white castle that had given him such a coin once before.

„ _It isn’t weakness to ask for help_ “, the voice offered.

„Shut up“, Holland said. But of course it wasn’t as easy as that.

He remembered another day. A game of Ost. A cursed cigarette. A dying king. And then pain and blood and Astrids laugh and Athos smile and…

„ _Don’t do that to yourself_ “, the voice said, interrupting his thoughts. And Holland’s mind snapped back to the present. He exhaled, tension bleeding out of his shoulders. It was difficult to remember that day. But he had gone there hunting for something, something else than blood and ink and pain. Something about Vortalis. Something before everything had turned dark. A game of Ost and… a conversation. Right. They had tried to revive their world and it hadn’t worked. And then Vortalis had suggested asking Red London for help.

And maybe. Just maybe. He would have listened to him. If not for everything that had happened after.

„What if I had agreed with him in asking Red London for help?“, Holland asked.

„ _Who knows_ “, the voice said.

„Shouldn’t you?“

„ _You didn’t seem inclined to listen to him_ “, the voice said. It sounded angry.

„You never gave me the chance!“

„ _Well then. Even if you’d have listened to him, you’d never have listened to advice from Red London. Not at that time_.“

Holland leaned back, his hand curled so tight around the red lin it hurt. Anger burned inside him. Anger and indignation. And he could feel it being echoed, a second strand of anger that was not completely his.

„ _I needed someone to understand_ “, the voice said. An excuse. A mantra. Flung defiantly in front of Hollands feet.

„And you couldn’t have found another way?“

„ _No._ “

„Seven years!“

The words rang through the hall, echoing back at him and then disappearing leaving nothing but silence in itss wake. Not only in the hall but in his mind, too.

And in the silence Hollands anger burned out.

 _„You are here with me because we would both do whatever we can to keep our world alive.“_ Vortalis words. He wasn’t sure if it was a memory or the voice speaking.

„True“, Holland whispered.

„ _It isn’t weakness to ask for help_ “, the voice said once more.

And that was the whole point. Even before the Danes, Holland had never liked to beg.

„ _He left that coin for you_ “, the voice said.

A reminder. An invitation. A parting gift.

He couldn’t do this alone. Not truly. Despite his power and knowledge and experience, there were things he did not know about magic. Things in which Kell was superior to him.

He did not like that feeling.

 

*

 

The smell of Red London assaulted him again as soon as he had stepped through. After spending so many days here, he had thought he might had gotten used to it. But after breathing the air of his own world the last months he had obviously forgotten.

He moved though the vibrant streets towards the castle and couldn’t help the old sting of envy. This was how his world should look like.

„ _It will_ “, the voice said.

„When?“, Holland asked. But the voice did not answer.

He stepped towards the gates, the guards moving to deny him entry.

„I bear a message to your king from the king of White London“, Holland said.

The guards exchanged a glance.

„I thought all exchange of messages had been canceled“, one of the guards said.

„The king of White London wants to reestablish them.“

They exchanged another glance and then let him through. It hadn’t been that long since messages had been normal after all.

He had walked through half the castle, when a servant appeared and asked him to follow. So someone had run to inform the king about his visit. He got led to the throne room, which in this castle was arrogantly made out of glass?

The servant bowed and disappeared and Holland stepped in. On the throne was prince Rhy, well king Rhy now. At his side the captain turned guard. And lover. As far as Holland knew. His eyes returned to the king. The boy had adapted a regal composure, still somewhat nervous, but he seemed to have grown into kingship a bit.

„ _He is a strange piece of magic_ “, the voice said.

„Because he was dead once?“

„ _Yes_.“

„I have been dead.“

„ _Nah_ “, the voice said. „ _Only ever just at the brink of dying. This one went over_.“

„Is it a bad thing?“

„ _I said strange, not bad. It’s something he would have done. The one from your Black London. It doesn’t quite fit into this London._ “

„As far as I know, his life is tethered to the _Antari_ of this world.“

„ _Huh_ “, the voice said. „ _That’s interesting_.“

„So you don’t know everything?“

„ _Am I supposed to?_ “

Holland stepped forward and inclined his head.

„Kell told me you had gone back to die in your own world“, the king said, he sounded wary. Which wasn’t a bad trait.

„I did“, Holland said. „Things turned out different.“

„You bear a message from your king?“, Rhy asked.

„No“, Holland said. „I bear a message from me.“

Rhy cocked his head.

„I am still the king of White London, and I would like to reestablish an exchange between our worlds.“

„Neither Kell nor Lila are around to carry letters.“

„We don’t really need letters, when I can come over to meet you myself, do we?“

Rhy frowned, his carefully composed aura of kingship slipping.

„That’s true.“

„You look different“, the captain said. Hollands eyes skittered over to him. He knew about the captains gift of sight, so he knew that he didn’t solely refer to his outer appearance.

He wondered what he saw in him now. What he had seen before.

„I am trying to heal my world“, Holland said.

„Wasn’t that also what you tried when you unleashed Osaron onto ours?“

„Yes“, Holland said. And he could see that his simple admittance caught them off guard. „This is different.“

„How so?“, Rhy asked.

Yes. How was it different? He had still a voice whispering in his mind. Listening to his thoughts and having its own ideas about how things should be done.

„ _Hey!_ “, the voice chimed.

„Because I am trying to balance magic. And my world does not know a single thing about it.“

A heavy silence followed his words. He could see the two man study him, trying to pierce his shell to find the true reason for his appearance.

„ _Asking for help is not weakness_ “, the voice in his head chimed.

Holland swallowed. So many things were still so much against his nature.

„It’s different, because I am here to ask for your help“, he swallowed. „Please.“

He could see something flicker in the kings eyes. Compassion. Understanding. And Holland felt himself laid bare. He would have turned and stormed off in that instance. Fleeing back to his world and solitude. If not the fate of his world had been at stake.

We would both do whatever we can to keep our world alive.

He stayed.

„I’ll need time to consider it“, Rhy said.

Holland inclined his head. He turned to go.

„A week“, the king said. Holland stopped. „Come back in a week.“

He inclined his head again. „Your majesty.“

He left the throne room.

„They are not going to help“, Holland said.

„ _You don’t know that, yet_ “, the voice said.

„No. But why should they care about a world that is not theirs? Especially when there is nothing I can offer them in return.“

„ _Maybe you can_ “, the voice mused.

„And what would that be?“

„ _I do not know. But there might be something_.“

 

*

 

A restless week had gone by. Holland had tried to occupy himself as best as he could to stop himself from worrying. He hated to be at the mercy of someone else. He hated, that he could do nothing to influence the outcome.

He wondered what he would do when the king denied him his help.

 

They did not meet in the throne room this time. Instead a servant brought him to a study where the king and his guard awaited him.

„Please, sit down“, the king said and Holland lowered himself into a chair.

„I am aware that you sacrificed a great deal to save my kingdom“, Rhy said. „And I am grateful for that.“

„But“, Holland said.

„But I can’t help you with balancing.“

As expected. He rose. No point in loosing more time sitting around.

„Then I’ll take my leave.“

„What? No. Wait.“

Holland frowned.

„I didn’t say I won’t help you. I just can’t help you with the balancing part. First off I have no magic of my own. And second there aren’t as many people who are able to balance. You’ll have to bring the issue to the Sanctuary.“

„The Sanctuary?“, Holland asked.

„Yes. The London Sanctuary… it is a monastery. If there is someone who can teach you how to balance it’s Tieren.“

„And… would you be willing to make introductions?“

Rhy flashed him a smile. „Why, of course I am.“

 

The London Sanctuary was a simple stone structure sitting at a bend in the river near the end of the city. It was rather restrained compared to other buildings in Red London, being more defined by the lack of unnecessary flourish. He rather liked it.

Inside it was similar simple, the smooth rock walls visible, the only flourish lend by the vaulting ceiling and vast pillars. And there was a calm settling all around him. It made him feel uncomfortable, having to remind himself constantly to stay alert so as not to succumb to the calm.

A man moved through the hall towards them, wearing a white flowing robe. He stopped in front of them, his gaze coming to rest on the king and then moved over to Holland.

„May I introduce you to Tieren, the Aven Essen, head priest of the London Sanctuary.“

„My pleasure“, Holland said.

„And here we have-„

„The White London _Antari_ “, Tieren said. „Yes. I have heard quite a lot about you.“

Probably no good things.

„ _Oh come on, don’t be so negative_ “, the voice said.

„He is also the King of White London“, Rhy added.

„Ah. My apologies, your majesty“, Tieren said and bowed slightly.

He might have felt mocked if the priest hadn’t seemed absolutely earnest.

„No offense taken“, Holland said.

The priest straightened again and their eyes met. Instantly Hollands defenses were up. There was something in the priests gaze that seemed to pierce all outer appearances and look straight into ones soul.

He wanted to shy away from that gaze, but instead he forced himself to return it straight on. It made the priest smile. But not like Athos would have smiled. This was a warm, understanding smile.

A kind smile.

It almost broke him.

„So? What has lead you to me?“, the priest asked.

„I need to learn how to balance magic.“

„What for?“

„It’s necessary to heal my world.“

„I see“, the priest said gazing at him again. „Yes. It appears you are carrying the fate of a world on your shoulders. Maybe we should further discuss this in my study.“

He nodded towards his king and then turned to go. Holland followed him deeper into the Sanctuary. The strange calm got stronger the farther they walked. It still made Holland anxious. It tried to coax him into lowering his guard so he instinctively refused.

„ _You can relax now and then, you know?_ “, the voice said.

He ignored it.

The study was simple as everything else. Some books and scrolls a simple desk, nothing fancy.

"So. Balancing", the priest said. "That's quite a task."

"Why?", Holland asked. "I always though this world is all about balancing magic. So how come no one seems to know much about doing it?"

"Because it is difficult to put words to something you do intuitively. Also there are different kinds of balancing. What most people do and know to do is not to overexert their magic. So they are balancing the use of magic with the time they don’t use it.“

„What are the other kinds?“

„Having a so fine tuned control of the four elements that they balance each other to create life. So what exactly is it you are trying to achieve?“

„The later. Can you teach me how to do it?“, Holland asked.

The priest hesitated.

„I don’t know“, he said.

„Why?“

„Because it’s not so much about balancing magic, than it is about balancing yourself“, Tieren said. „And that is not quite as easy to teach.“

Whatever that was supposed to mean.

„I can learn it“, Holland said. „I need to learn it. However difficult it might be.“

„I don’t doubt your willingness“, the priest said. „And I’ll offer all the help I can.“

 

*

 

„What’s this?“, Holland asked.

They had stepped into a small chamber, on the floor stood four bowls. One containing a candle for fire, one containing water and one containing earth. The last bowl being empty, containing nothing than air. And between all of them was a circle.

„It’s a focus circle“, Tieren said. „To meditate. To connect to the elements. To train. You don’t use them in your world?“

„No“, Holland said, eying it wary. He couldn’t help remember stepping into a circle drawn by Astrid. The immobility. The helplessness. He couldn’t see how this was a trap. And he didn’t believe it was something Red Londoners practiced. But still. It made his skin crawl.

„ _It’s alright_ “, the voice said. „ _It actually is just a focus circle_.“

So it said. But for that he’d have to trust the voice.

„ _Well, do you want to learn balancing or not?_ “

He needed to.

„ _I guess you won’t have any other option then_.“

„Fine“, Holland said. He took a deep breath and stepped into the circle.

Nothing happened.

He felt foolish. And then he didn’t feel foolish. It was good to be wary. It could have been a trap. It was more foolish to be baselessly trusting.

„So what now?“, he asked turning to the priest.

„Sit“, the priest said. And as Holland did so: „Close your eyes. Try to sense the elements around you. Don’t do anything with them. Just sense them.“

Holland closed his eyes. Really not sure how that should help him learn to balance. It sounded like a beginners exercise in magic.

He could sense the four elements, fire and earth to his left, water and air to his right. And he could sense the blood and bone of the priest. Which meant he could also sense him leaving.

He remained sitting in the circle, closed eyes, elements all around him. He could feel a draft rattle the bowls, which was strange as there was no opening in the small room. But beyond that nothing happened.

He could feel a breeze caress his skin. He could feel a knife trail over his skin.

„You have disobeyed“, Athos said.

No. He hadn’t. He couldn’t.

„It appears the seal is fading.“

It wasn’t fading. Athos had just made the mistake of not being specific enough with his command. And he hadn’t even stayed that much longer in Red London. Just an hour. He hadn’t even done anything specific. Just walked the streets. Pretending that there was no leash calling him back. Pretending that he was still free. Trying desperately to remain out of the Danes grasp a little longer.

Athos would laugh about it if he knew.

As it was Athos laughed about the strain in his eyes as he cut into his skin, searching for and enjoying the smallest sign of suffering. Holland tried to breath evenly as the knife bit into his chest. His head tipped forward. Athos cuts wouldn’t change anything. It wouldn’t lessen nor worsen the curse. All it did was make him hurt and remind him of what he could feel every day, every minute in his body, in his bones, around his mind. The bindings, the leash, the limits of his freedom.

It was worse enough.

„ _Holland_ “, someone called. „ _Holland_.“

His eyes snapped open. He was inside a small room. Inside a circle. Four bowls containing essences of the elements around him.

Right.

He was in Red London.

Athos was dead.

„This is pointless“, Holland said and stood.

He left the room. He left the Sanctuary. He left Red London.

 

*

 

„How is it in your world, Holland?“, Rhy asked. „Do you have neighboring countries you have to deal with?“

They were sitting in the king’s study, one of their meetings that had become a routine by now. To his surprise he mostly enjoyed them. Although he was slightly distracted right now, his mind circling around the fact that he still hadn’t learned how to balance.

„My world isn’t organized enough for something like that“, Holland said. „It’s a world of city-states. Each ruled by their own head who clawed themselves into power.“

„And do you interact with them?“

„No“, Hollands said. „Maybe when things are more stable.“

„Isn’t it strange“, said Rhy. „That you are more inclined to have connections to another world but not the cities next to you in your own?“

„Maybe“, Holland said. „And maybe not. After all, this London is always only one step away for me.“

Rhy put down his glass and poured himself another drink. He glanced at Hollands glass. Which was still as full as when it had first been filled.

„You haven’t touched your drink.“

There was a slight, accusatory tone to the statement. Holland looked at the glass and pondered answering or keeping quiet. But maybe Rhy deserved a bit of honesty.

„I usually don’t drink something I haven’t unbottled myself“, Holland admitted.

„A bit paranoid, isn’t it?“

„You shouldn’t either“, Holland said. „It’s how kings die.“

„Not me“, Rhy said and took his glass. He sounded cheerful as he said it, but in the corner of his eyes, Holland could see the strain. Right. He could not die that easily.

„Anything new about Kell?“, Holland asked.

„He is alive. I know as much as that.“

His calm was feigned. Holland could see it. But it wasn’t his own life he was afraid for.

„You miss him.“

„Of course I miss him“, Rhy laughed. „He is my brother, after all. And Faro and Vesk haven’t declared war on us yet. But with everything that has happened, the peace has gotten strained. Which makes it even more dangerous to be out there.“

„And you still let him go.“

„What else could I have done?“, he asked.

It was rather a question of conscious than of ability.

„It’s admirable that you think so“, Holland said. „And speaks of a certain strength.“

Rhy shook his head.

„People whisper“, the king said. „About my lack of magic. They still love me. But they do not think I am fit to rule.“

Holland cocked an eyebrow. „I have found that people always whisper. You cannot please them all. And besides. Strength is overrated.“

The king laughed.

„That coming from you.“

„That coming from me“, Holland said and a smile tugged at his lips.

To his surprise he had come to like the boy. He wouldn’t have lasted a single week as king in White London. But then again, they weren’t in White London, and the more he thought about it, the more he came to believe that he was exactly the kind of king this London needed.

„You are not supposed to do what they want“, Holland said. „You are supposed to do what is best for them. That’s the duty of a king.“

„Wise words“, Rhy said.

„You’ll make a good king“, Holland said.

„I hope so.“

„You’ve got all the necessary qualities for it“, Holland said.

Rhy flashed him a smile.

„What a charmer.“

 

*

 

„ _What are you doing?_ “, the voice asked.

„Shouldn’t you know what I am doing?“, Holland said.

He hadn’t crafted many magical artifacts in his life. He had never had the necessity to fixate his magic like that.

But he knew all the theories and he had watched Astrid make them with his blood. It should be enough. Besides, in his search for a way to balance magic he had read a lot about how to craft them.

„It’s not to bind you“, Holland said. „Don’t worry.“

„ _Yes. I know as much as that_ “, the voice said.

„Then stop complaining. I need to concentrate.“

The voice huffed but went silent. A smile almost crept onto Holland’s lips. By now he had rather gotten used to having it around. It almost felt comforting.

He picked up what he was working on, a small silvery disc, no larger than a coin, and squinted at the inscriptions. Almost finished now.

 

*

 

They were walking through a garden that belonged to the London Sanctuary. The priest stopped and turned toward a plant.

„Can you sense the imbalance in it?“, Tieren asked.

Holland looked at the plant. He tried to sense the different elements in it as he had practiced in the meditation ring. But all he could sense was that it was a living plant.

„No“, he said, frustration creeping into his voice.

„Don’t feel bad“, the priest said. „What you are trying to do is difficult for most people.“

But he wasn’t most people. And his world hinged on him learning to balance.

„So where is the imbalance?“, Holland asked.

„It’s lacking water“, Tieren said with a smile.

Holland looked at the plant and tried to sense it again. Could he feel something? Maybe? Or maybe he just wished he could sense anything.

„Don’t force it“, Tieren said. „It’ll come to you with time.“

„I don’t have time“, Holland said.

„Always in such a hurry“, Tieren said.

„ _Yes, isn’t he?_ “, the voice commented.

It just made him annoyed with them both.

„Isn’t there an easier way to learn this?“, Holland asked.

„It isn’t easy to learn to begin with“, the priest said in his annoyingly calm voice. „And I have found that it might be even more difficult for an _Antari_.“

„Why?“

„Too much power can hamper ones understanding of the finer points of magic.“

Great. As if he hadn’t enough problems to deal with.

„Why don’t you walk in the garden and try to sense the imbalance in the plants?“, the priest suggested.

„Sure“, Holland said. Not at all sure it was a fruitful exercise. But he watched the priest go and then walked through the garden. It was so much more lush than any garden in White London. A hundred different plants and flowers, blooming lush and colorful. The scent almost nauseating.

„I don’t believe this is working“, he said.

„ _How do you know, if you haven’t even tried?_ “, the voice said.

Holland sighed and tried to focus on the plants. Their magic. Their energy. Their imbalances.

He stopped in front of a shrub in the shade of a tree. Could he sense something? Maybe a bit? Wasn’t it lacking… Fire?

No.

Nothing.

If there was any imbalance, he could not sense it.

„This is pointless“, he said.

Besides. There was something else he had come to do in Red London.

 

*

 

He found the king in the courtyard that showed all the four seasons. He and his guard had picked a place under a spring flowered tree.

„Holland“, Rhy called as he approached, one of his typical smiles appearing on his face.

Holland stopped in front of them.

„I have a gift for you“, Holland said. He dug in one of his pockets and produced the small silvery disc. He held it out to the king.

„I…“, Rhy said and trailed of. He didn’t take the disc. „Sorry. I can’t help being slightly wary of any gift you offer.“

Of course. How could he have been so stupid.

„Bad choice of words“, he said. „It’s not a gift. It’s payment.“

„Payment? For what.“

„For your help.“

„Oh. That’s fine. I didn’t do it for payment. Besides I haven’t done very much.“

Holland still held out the disc. Although he started to feel stupid.

„It’s just to call me, when you need me“, he said.

„Oh“, Rhy finally took the disc. „You mean when I have something to discuss? Yes that’s quite better than relying on you coming by. Thanks.“

Holland swallowed. „There is more.“

He still wasn’t sure about this. Was he so desperate to tether himself to someone?

„ _No_ “, the voice said. „ _You’re just unused to friendship_.“

_I don’t have friends._

„ _No?_ “, the voice asked. „ _Then why do this?_ “

That was exactly the point. He didn’t understand why. He just felt the need to do it. For a young king desperate to protect his kingdom. For the king of Red London above all. When did that happen?

The king looked at him, a question in his eyes.

„Your kingdom has been weakened by Osarons assault. Your neighbors are restless and scheme for a war. While your _Antari_ , who would have given them pause to try anything, is away.“ He looked straight at the king. „Call me when you need me.“

„You mean…“

„Yes.“

„That’s a lot to offer.“

„I know“, Holland said.

„Thank you“, Rhy said a smile returning to his lips. A more quiet smile, but somehow more sincere, too. „I hope you’ll be able to heal your world, Holland. I truly do.“

 

*

 

Holland was standing in front of a table, essences of all the elements were placed around a bowl holding a single seed. He took a bit of all the essences and finally the seed cupping it in his hand, concentrating. Another exercise Tieren had showed him.

The seed cracked, falling to pieces into the bowl.

„Kajt“, Holland swore, slamming the table with his fist. „Why isn’t this working?“

He had tried and tried and still balancing eluded him. Whatever he did. However he did it. It did not work.

„ _Too much imbalance_ “, the voice offered.

„Yes. Great. Thank’s for stating the obvious.“

He stepped away from the table and toward the window overlooking his city. But the view did nothing to sooth him. Most of it was still bleached white, even the specks of color that were there could not overshadow the simple fact that his world was still broken.

„ _Go sleep_ “, the voice said. „ _You always get irritated when you are tired_.“

„I don’t need sleep“, Holland said. „I need a way to fix my world.“

Also he did not have the stomach to face what he would encounter in his dreams.

„ _Go sleep_ “, the voice said again. „ _I’ll wake you up when things get out of hand_.“

He glared at the voice. As much as that was possible with a voice in your mind.

„ _Look, Holland_ “, the voice said, its tone shifting slightly. „ _It’s not healthy for you to do this_.“

„And what do I care about health?“

„ _You need sleep. Even if you don’t want to acknowledge it_.“

No. It was better to stay awake. He knew what was happening around him when he was awake. He could control what was going on.

„ _No one is here to harm you_ “, the voice said. „ _You don’t need to be afraid_.“

„I am not afraid!“

The voice fell pointedly silent. And Holland gripped the edge of the window so tight it hurt. Of course he couldn’t fool the voice. Not when it knew every single feeling he had whenever he had it.

He took deep breathes, trying to calm his racing heart again.

„ _It’s alright to be afraid_ “, the voice said.

„Don’t you dare pity me“, Holland said. „You have no right to pity me. None at all.“

„ _I’m not_ “, the voice said. „ _I’m just telling you that you are_ save _.“_

He didn’t believe it.

He had never been save. Not since the magic had chosen him.

„ _You are save now_ “, the voice said. „ _Athos is dead. He holds no control over you anymore. Osaron is banished, he does not live inside you anymore. You are just yourself. No one will harm you_.“

„How do you know?“, Holland whispered.

„ _Because I will not let anyone harm you_ “, the voice said.

Holland fell silent again.

„ _Go sleep_ “, the voice said gentle. „ _I will stand guard for you_.“

He closed his eyes. His breath left his lungs in a slow exhale, while he consciously lowered his tightly build guards and committed himself to the abyss.

He let go of the window and moved over to the bed.

 

_The metal was cold against his skin. His arms spread wide, the shackles biting into his wrists. Sweat coated his skin, seeping into the cuts on his skin making them burn. He had been here a long time. Long enough for his resolve to wane, to crack. The edges of his pretended hollowness showing._

_Athos lifted the knife again and put the tip to Hollands chest, drove it in, cutting, deepening the lines of his binding spell. Hollands heart drummed against his chest, driven by pain and fear and exhaustion._

_And Athos smiled._

_Thriving on his terror. His pain. His suffering._

_„It’s a dream“, someone said. „It’s not real.“_

_The voice sounded familiar, but he could not really place it._

_„You can break those shackles“, the voice said._

_Holland looked at his wrists and to his surprise they were free of the manacles. He stepped forward and he could. The frame loosing its grip as if it had never held him. He moved his hand to his chest. There was no blood anymore. No more ink._

_And no more seal._

_He looked up and saw Athos turned to stone._

_And then even that faded, the statue bleeding into the smooth skin of a tree. The rustling of leaves filled Hollands ear. The wind brushed his hair and then showered him with leaves. He turned his palms up and leaves gathered in them, spilling over like water._

_„You did it“, someone said._

_He turned around and saw Vortalis sitting on a stump, he casually put a cigarette between his teeth and produced a flame, hovering over his thumb, to light it._

_„Vor“, Holland said and a smile spread on his lips._

_„Really“, Vortalis said, blowing out a cloud of smoke. „I never thought your bedtime stories would prove true.“_

_„It’s good to see you“, Holland said._

 

He woke.

 

Relief. Gratitude. Sadness. Spilling over and streaking down his cheeks.

He took a slow, ragged breath and covered his eyes with his arm. It took him some moments of concentrated breathing to calm.

When his heart stilled, and his breathing smoothed, Holland shifted his arm, letting it rest on the bed. He looked up at the ceiling.

„Are you there?“, he whispered.

„ _As long as you listen_ “, the voice said.

„Thank you.“

He could feel the voice hum inside him, a soft, calming sensation. As if pleased.

He felt more at peace than he had ever felt before.

 

*

 

„It should have been obvious“, Holland said. „It’s lacking warmth.“

He knelt at the shore of the Sijlt and touched the ice, it was biting cold but he ignored it. He closed his eyes summoning fire. His hand warmed. Fire danced across the river, licking at the ice. But stubbornly it refused to melt.

„More“, he whispered and the fire grew. But still it did not melt the ice. More and more he poured onto the river. Flames danced along the surface. Steam rising to the sky. But it did not change a thing.

„ _Stop_ “, the voice said alarmed. Holland ignored it. He had to succeed. He just had to.

„ _Stop!“_

The voice rang through his mind disrupting his concentration. The fire vanished and Holland fell back, pain wracking his body, his veins ink dark. And in front of him the Sijlt, still frozen.

„It’s not enough“, Holland said. „After everything… it’s not enough.“

„ _I am sorry_ “, the voice said.

„Can’t you do anything?“, he asked.

„ _No. I am sorry_.“

„Why?“

„ _It’s not how these things work.“_

„Why? Why can’t you damn well fix this thing yourself?“

„ _Because I can not interact with the world without a channel. At least not like this_.“

„So it isn’t working because I am not enough of a channel?“

„ _Yes_.“

He let himself fall back onto the shore, which was sparsely covered with grass, looking up at the sky. It was stupid really. Way to exposed. Disadvantageous position when attacked. But he didn’t really care.

He looked up at the sky, a few clouds drifting by. It had gotten bluer. The world was healing. The blueness of the sky as much an indicator as the grass, the color on the buildings. The people. And still it was not enough.

 

 

*

 

He looked in the mirror, his fingers trailing along the old scar of Athos binding spell. It was a reminder. That for all his power he was not invincible. That a moment of distraction was all it needed for him to fall. That even though he was _Antari_ and probably the strongest magician in his world, the someday king even, he wasn’t any stronger than on that day.

„ _You don’t need to be_.“

Holland let his hand fall away and took a shirt.

„People are restless“, he said. „They don’t believe in me. And if they start to do so, they start to look for a new king.“

„ _It’s different now_ “, the voice said.

„How so?“, Holland asked, putting on the shirt. „I am not invincible. Someone else could build a trap for me again.“

Especially since he had still not succeeded in healing his world.

„ _Because I could have warned you about Astrids spell_.“

He hesitated for a moment.

„But you didn’t.“

„ _No_.“

„Did you know what they had planned for me?“

„ _Yes_.“

„And you let them?“

„ _Yes_.“

„Because you needed me to understand.“

„ _Yes_.“

To his surprise there was no anger rising inside him. So all those years suffering had been to a purpose. A smile curled his lips. In the end it had been what had made him understand. What had showed him the way to save his world. Calm settled upon his shoulders. There was a certain liberation in that thought.

„ _You know… I had actually given up on you people“, the voice said. „I wasn’t inclined to choose anyone as_ Antari _anymore_.“

„So what changed?“, Holland asked.

„ _I found this little boy with a head full of dreams.“_

„Didn’t all the children dream about being the someday king?“

„ _They do_ “, the voice said. „ _But you didn’t dream about being a king. You dreamed about being a hero_.“

It took him off guard.

„ _I was pretty sure that you didn’t knew what you were asking for. But I still wanted someone to understand. And you seemed the first one in a long, long time who might actually be willing to listen_.“

„It took me a long while.“

„ _You got there in the end. That’s all that matters_.“

„I am no hero.“

„ _Aren’t you_?“, the voice said.

„No“, Holland said. But he was a king. And all the stories always made the magician be king. There had to be a reason for that. Magic was not enough to heal the world.

It’d need a kingdom to do so.

A channel…

 

*

 

People bordered the shore of the Sijlt. All of them showed the rosy skin of the people he had healed. Unmarked by any binding runes. They had all followed a proclamation given by their king.

„ _So many_ “, the voice whispered. And Holland felt the same. He had not known there were that many by now. They crowded the shoreline in multiple rows. The first kneeling, their hands touching the ice of the river. The ones behind them their hands outstretched toward the river.

„Well. You have asked for more of a channel.“

„ _I… did_ “, the voice said.

He stepped towards the water and the people let him through, eyes turned towards him. He could read fear and anxiety but also hope.

He stopped in front of the water and knelt, his hand touching the icy surface. And then he summoned fire. The flames splayed over the river, licking at the ice. Then one by one, all around him, people followed suit.

„ _Huh_ “, the voice said. „ _They are asking. They are all_ asking _.“_

He could feel a warmth spread inside him. Emitting a calm and radiance that flowed through him and for a single moment he felt connected to everything. The sky, the air, the earth, the water of the Siljt, the ice, the sun, the flames. The magic. The people.

And beneath his hands the ice melted.

Cries erupted all around him, as the river melted from the shoreline to its middle, revealing a bristling blue river. Bubbling joyously beneath the sun.

Holland got slowly back to his feet. All around him people were cheering. Hugging each other. Kissing. Crying. Patting each others shoulders. Proud to have been part of this. Hopeful for a future.

Holland lowered his head to hide a smile, then he turned and walked through the crowd, too occupied with their joy to give him much notice.

His feet did not lead him back to the castle. Instead he found himself entering the shade of a grove outside the city. Light played over the now lush ground, covered in brightly green grass. A green hue clung to everything, light being filtered by the leaves, now a full grown canopy. But still the trunks of the trees were smooth and almost silvery, and in the background was the bubbling of a small, nascent river.

He leaned against one of the trunks, then let himself sink, lowering his tired body to the lush earth. A gentle breeze blew through the grove, rustling the leaves. He inhaled deep the scents surrounding him, earth and dew.

As long as he could remember he had dreamed of a magician strong enough to breath back life into the starving lungs of his world. And for as long as he could remember he had wanted the magician to be him.

„Thank you“, he whispered. „For choosing me.“

„ _Thank you_ “, the voice whispered. „ _For listening_.“

 


End file.
